George snatched it up, and rushed downstairs. In the sitting-room, all was dark and silent: there was no fire, no breakfast. George said it was a wicked shame of Mrs. G., and he made up his mind to tell her what he thought of her when he came home in the evening. Then he dashed on his great-coat and hat, and, seizing his umbrella, made for the front door. The door was not even unbolted. George anathematized Mrs. G. for a lazy old woman, and thought it was very strange that people could not get up at a decent, respectable time, unlocked and unbolted the door, and ran out.
He ran hard for a quarter of a mile, and at the end of that distance it began to be borne in upon him as a strange and curious thing that there were so few people about, and that there were no shops open. It was certainly a very dark and foggy morning, but still it seemed an unusual course to stop all business on that account.
At length he reached Holborn
"What's the time?" said the man, eyeing George up and down with evident suspicion
George listened, and a neighbouring clock immediately obliged
"But it's only gone three
dilapidated [d'laepdetd] neighbouring ['nebr]
At length he reached Holborn. Not a shutter was down! not a bus was about! There were three men in sight, one of whom was a policeman; a market-cart full of cabbages, and a dilapidated looking cab. George pulled out his watch and looked at it: it was five minutes to nine! He stood still and counted his pulse. He stooped down and felt his legs. Then, with his watch still in his hand, he went up to the policeman, and asked him if he knew what the time was.
"What's the time?" said the man, eyeing George up and down with evident suspicion; "why, if you listen you will hear it strike."
George listened, and a neighbouring clock immediately obliged.
"But it's only gone three!" said George in an injured tone, when it had finished.
"Well, and how many did you want it to go
"Why, nine
"Do you know where you live
George thought, and gave the address